Prologue
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Keyshia

Get ready to die, was the thought that ran through Keyshia Simmons’s mind as she stared into the smeared, tiny bathroom mirror in the federal courthouse building in lower Manhattan. Suddenly, she lost it again and ran to the nearest toilet stall, where she fell to her knees and threw up violently. It took a few minutes to regain her composure and get back on her feet. Time was running out. Unsteadily, she walked to the sink, cupped a handful of water, and splashed it over her face and into her mouth, the cool water soothing her skin. Life, that day, had new meaning, a new zest, a new zeal. But Keyshia knew it would only be short-lived.

The beginning of the end was near, and Keyshia knew it. She took a breath, looked down, and rubbed her growing stomach. As her pitiful life flashed before her eyes, she grew angry. But as suddenly as the anger came, it disappeared when she thought about the last years of her life with her man, Clyde Barker. Just moments earlier, she’d sat no farther than ten feet away from him in the courtroom as she awaited his fate—their fate. She loved Clyde more than life itself, because he told her she was beautiful when she couldn’t find beauty in herself. She loved him because he taught her how to love herself when she never knew how. She loved him because through him, she now knew what true love really was and what it felt like to be loved and be needed. They’d made a promise that they would die together, and today that’s exactly what would happen.

Using her sleeve, she wiped the remaining perspiration and water from her puffy eyes and forehead, exhaled deeply, and repeated, only this time out loud:

“Get ready to die.”

The courtroom was outside the bathroom door, a hundred yards away. Once again, and for the hundredth time, it seemed, she tapped both weapons, fully loaded nine millimeters, which she had strapped securely on either side of her ribs. The only things that could keep her from reuniting with her man were three court officers, three guns, and opportunity. The odds didn’t matter today. What did matter was to get her man out or die trying! The twelve jurors, one judge, and half a chance didn’t offer favorable odds. So she was ready.

Keyshia glanced at her watch—time was up, and suddenly she felt dizzy. She used the sink to brace herself. She took a deep, deep breath and paused—she had to clear everything out of her mind for the mission at hand. She began to think optimistically; if things worked out, she and Clyde could slip out of the courtroom and be lost in all the panic that was sure to come. They might be able to pull it off. However, she knew it was more likely that she would go out down and dirty. So be it.

Life wasn’t worth living that much anyway. She touched her stomach once again and smiled as she thought about what could have been. But Keyshia stopped such thinking because she had to be strong. Strong enough for both of them. She closed her eyes again and proceeded to will herself into combat mode, the will of survival, the art of war. Instinctively, her chest began to heave, pulse began to surge, teeth began to grind, nose began to flare, palms began to sweat, and then, there it was—a burst of adrenaline raced through her bloodstream. She let go of the porcelain sink and stormed out the bathroom door. She was ready. Ready to die!

Clyde

Someone was going to die today. Clyde Barker was that someone as he sat sullenly at the defendant’s table awaiting his fate. Though he’d known from the very beginning that he hadn’t a chance in hell, he could not help but hope it wouldn’t go down this way.

Get ready to die! he thought.

The twelve jurors whisked by in single file without looking in his direction. This was not a good sign. Reading body language was a necessity in the world of Clyde Barker, because 90 percent of things he did in those streets was not said, it was almost a given. When he robbed drug dealers in their drug spots, the black gloves, ski mask, and shotgun spoke for itself. Run that shit! When he kidnapped a dealer’s family member, they looked only for the ransom note, the time, and the place to drop off the loot. See, nothing else needed to be said. Run that shit! But now, Clyde’s world was about to come to an abrupt end, as the shoe was now on the other foot.

Where was Keyshia?

Clyde thought back to the very first time he’d seen her beautiful face months ago when he pickpocketed her wallet—she couldn’t stand his ass. But as fate had it, when love calls, love calls. There’s nothing you can do. You can duck and hide, but there’s no escaping it; when love comes knocking on your door, you got to let it in. Well, Keyshia didn’t only knock, she kicked down the whole fucking door, and he loved the shit out of her for that.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge as he sat imposingly upon his bench.

“Yes, Your Honor, we have,” stated the jury’s forewoman. An overwhelming fear washed over Clyde at that moment. Not fear of being found guilty, but fear of his plan dissolving before his eyes. Where was Keyshia? He turned and eyed the door again, causing the burly court officer who stood behind him to turn and look at the door also. Be cool, Clyde thought as he tried to make it look as if he were looking toward his two family members in the benches behind him. His palms began to sweat as he questioned the letter that he’d sent her.

My Beloved Aihsyek

As you know, my trial date is scheduled for February 23, at the Federal Court Building on 40 Centre Street. I spoke to my lawyer and he feels I have a very good chance of beating this. I feel the same way. I know you are happy for me. I’m ready to live a brand-new life shortly after that and we can live together forever and ever, just like we talked about many, many times before. There should be only three charges that stand in my way, but I’m only worried about two of them. You should give yourself about three hours’ worth of time in case it is crowded. You may have to sit in the back. I want you to bring two cigars, not the cheap ones, so we can celebrate on our way out the door. Do you remember Mike? He said he can get us some of the best champagne to celebrate with, plus he will keep it on ice for us. Damn, I can hardly wait to be in your arms again. I’ll write you plenty more as the days pass, so until then be well.

Love, Clyde

P.S. As soon as we hear those sweet words “Not Guilty,” we going to celebrate like it’s the Fourth of July.

Decoded, the letter read like this:

My Beloved Keyshia

As you know, my trial date is scheduled for February 23, at the Federal Court Building on 40 Centre St. I spoke to my lawyer and he feels I’m going to blow trial and be found guilty on all charges, never to see the light of day again. I know this news is fucking you up. I don’t want to ever live without you either. That’s why I made up my mind, I’m not going out like a chump, so if you are down with the way we talked about, “in a rage making front page,” we go out together. Only three court officers should be there at sentencing, I’ll handle the one closest to me, you take the other two out. As long as you come fully loaded, we could take ’em with no problem. Make sure you sit right in front, and use two high-caliber weapons, brand-new so we know they won’t jam. Get in touch with Spanish Mike, he could get the guns smuggled in for you, and you can trust him. I can’t wait to see you in heaven so we can be together forever in each other’s arms. This will be my last contact with you, so be well. I think it adds to the drama and very smart. I prefer it to stay.

P.S. As soon as you hear the word “Guilty” it’s on and blazing. Set it off!

Suddenly, the door to the courtroom opened, and there Keyshia was. A smile spread across Clyde’s face as he watched his girl, his woman, his world, enter the courtroom. He could read her mind just by the expression she had on her face. She was ready, and he knew it.

“Have the jurors come to a unanimous decision?”

“Yes, Your Honor, we have.”

Clyde did not hear the proceedings because his attention was on his baby. He was enthralled by her beautiful face and tunnel vision set in. He always knew it, but he realized even more so now, how fortunate he was to have found and known what true love felt like in his brief lifetime. Love was something that remained ever so elusive since his mother was taken away from him when he was little. In a short period, this beautiful woman gave him a lifetime of love.

A tear fell from his eye. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how chunky his woman was getting. She must be stuffing herself because she misses me, he thought. He loved the way her boots clicked with each determined step that she took on the marble floor. She seemed to glide toward the front of the courtroom.

The jury forewoman stood to give the verdict, but Clyde was fixated on Keyshia. He hadn’t seen Keyshia in the nearly eight months since his arrest, and he missed her.

Then Clyde’s head tilted like a curious K-9 as he noticed how wide her hips had gotten. As she got closer, he noticed how big her normally small breasts had grown.

He watched her rub her stomach—her hard, protruding stomach, wide and round. He frowned slightly. Keyshia was so close now that he could see the red in her eyes, the flaring of her nostrils, and the grinding of her jaw. Clyde blinked rapidly, and then it finally began to register. Oh shit, is Keyshia pregnant? Body language.

“In the case of federal bank robbery, what has the jury found?”

Clyde watched in horror as Keyshia reached inside her blazer jacket with both hands. He froze.

“We find the defendant, Clyde Barker . . .”

Oh, shit, he thought.

“Guilty!”

Clyde rose to his feet and yelled, “No!” but he was too late.

The last word that could be heard throughout the room was “Nine!” Then the entire courtroom erupted into pandemonium!